


Is This What You Wanted?

by cuteandtwisted



Series: In Every Universe [21]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confined Spaces, Enemies to Lovers, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Model Even, Unresolved Sexual Tension, most AU thing I've written, rich isak, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandtwisted/pseuds/cuteandtwisted
Summary: "You don’t come to my photoshoots anymore.”"I thought you didn't like it when I did.""I don't mind now."Or Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him.Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.Aka: Isak has a crush but misunderstandings get in the way. Even tries to stay away but Isak keeps tugging at his heartstrings.





	Is This What You Wanted?

**Author's Note:**

> i tweeted about this idea, then i got a prompt/ask requesting misunderstandings and feelings. so this happened.  
> i typed most of this on my phone, so it's probably messy 
> 
> ps: they just rly misunderstand each other a lot in this.  
> universe 21. sigh

Even meets him on a sweltering and humid night in July. His white shirt is clinging to his skin despite having popped a few buttons around the collar, so he strategically places himself next to a fan by the speakers to cool down.

It's Even's first major party with key players from his agency and he doesn't wish to immortalize it by being a sweaty mess on all the pictures.

He's examining his shirt under his arms with his back to the crowd when Isak Valtersen enters his life like a forgiving breeze on a hot and dizzying night.

"Wearing silk to events like these?" Isak says with the rim of a cocktail class teasing his cupid bow. There's a hint of a smile there. “Bold.”

Even knows who Isak is because his father, Terje Valtersen, happens to own the modeling agency that's just signed him. But it's the first time he's actually gotten to speak to him.

"They say you should make an impression at your first cocktail party," Even replies, hopes he sounds half as confident.

Isak is younger, but something about his build and his phlegmatic self leaves him feeling intimidated, nervous. Maybe it's the way he keeps his free hand tucked in his trousers' pocket, looking unbothered yet effortlessly sophisticated. Or the way his impressive neck tuffs out of the stiff collar of what looks like a very expensive buttoned up shirt tucked into a designer suit. Or the way his short hair curls ever so slightly around his nape despite all the products and grooming.

"And quite the impression you've made," Isak says with a dimpled smile and hooded eyes, and Even's heart skips a beat because _he’s flirting with me, isn’t he?_

Isak is notorious for flirting with models working under his father, for getting whatever and whoever he wants. Many have bragged about ending up in his bed and having the time of their lives. And in another world, under different circumstances, perhaps Even flirts back. Perhaps Even swoops him off his feet and wipes that confident grin off his face. But not here, not right now. Even can’t afford to ruin his prospects at his first public event because he couldn’t resist the CEO’s son. Even can’t afford to listen to his body and his urges right now, and it doesn’t matter how exquisite Isak looks.

Isak puts his glass down and proceeds to remove his jacket while Even watches with knots in his belly. He would say something but opts for silence instead, because a mere smile might make him look like he’s ingratiating himself with him.

He's still debating what to say when Isak carefully puts his jacket around Even’s shoulders, leaving him aghast. He then leans in to whisper something into his ear like they're lifelong friends. "Wear cotton next time. Cotton doesn't let you sweat."

His sweet scent mixed with a hint of whiskey lingers when Isak leans back, wobbly. He is drunk, Even realizes.

"Next time," Even echoes, holding onto Isak's jacket because he's not sure if he's supposed to leave it hanging around his shoulders or put it on properly.

"Feel free to sweat in that. It won't show in pictures." Isak grins before grabbing another cocktail glass from a waiter meandering the crowd with a copper tray, never breaking eye contact with Even.

“I’ll wash it before I return it,” Even blurts out because he knows better than to spurn Isak’s act of kindness. Most people in his agency would kill to simply hold a conversation with him.

“Keep it. Consider it my welcome gift,” says Isak and he’s now leaning against the wall, his green eyes as dim as his mellow voice. “If anyone torments you, just say I asked you to hold it for me cause I was feeling hot.”

Isak then raises his glass and nods at him before trudging away drunkenly.

Even is floored.

But at least the pictures turn out okay.

.

He later suspects that perhaps Isak is an actual fan of his work, at least judging by how he liked almost all of his pictures on Instagram, as well as any post that features him as a model. Even doubts that Isak would put in this much effort for a quick hook-up. And Eili, a model who’s just been signed as well, tells him that Isak never does that, that he rarely likes anyone’s posts on social media. It's cute. It makes Even feel somewhat good about himself, validated, sought.

He even begins to doubt the rumors about Isak after literally bumping into him in the make-up room one day and watching him awkwardly apologize for not looking where he’s going.

“It’s okay.” Even smiles at him, loving the slight flush on Isak’s face.

“Good luck with the shoot today.” Isak tells him with a polite smile before excusing himself.

Some of Even’s peers tease him about it, about the boss' son having a crush on him and lending him his jacket, which now hangs in Even's closet like a treasure, at a public event.

"He was feeling hot and asked me to hold it for him," Even lies.

It's harmless until it isn't, until Even receives a confounding offer from Isak that makes him do a double-take then drills a perpetual crease between his brows.

.

 

> _"Dear Even,_
> 
> _I'm sure you must have heard and concluded by now that I really, really, really want to fuck you. Consider this my official move. Allow me the pleasure of your company for one night, and I'll see that you're generously compensated._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Isak Valtersen"_

_._

Even cannot believe the words on the scented card that found its way to the physical mailbox of his humble shared Grünerløkka apartment. He later resigns to the realization that he made the ghastly mistake of assuming that a filthy rich boy like Isak Valtersen could actually be a decent person.

It shouldn't affect him as he has thick skin, but it leaves him full of doubts and foreign feelings about his recent career choice. His transition from behind the camera to in front of it hasn’t been smooth sailing.

"How does it feel to be objectified and treated like a sexual commodity, huh?" Sonja, his ex and now his dear friend, attempts to mollify him later when he shares Isak's offer with her. But it does not work.

It's scarring.

.

Even avoids Isak Valtersen at every event, as if a mere look could drive him to cause a scene. His skin prickles every time his sees him, standing tall and confident with his cocktail glasses and his doe eyes and long lashes.

In another universe, perhaps Even unravels him, makes him take those words back, sucks on those filthy whiskey coated lips until they beg: "I am sorry."

But not in this one. In this one, Even has bills to pay and people to support and goals to reach. In this universe, he simply ignores the rich brat.

But Isak finds him one night, and he's in navy blue pants that hug his ankles and a tight polo shirt that shows off his chest. It's the first time Even has seen him in anything other than a suit.

"No silk tonight?" Isak asks Even with a blush sitting atop his cheeks like it's nothing, like he hasn't just offered to pay him in exchange for sex, and he's wobbling a little. He's drunk again. Even wonders why he only ever pesters him when he's drunk.

Even excuses himself the same way he always does when he sees him, but Isak follows him this time.

"Do I perhaps make you uncomfortable?" Isak asks once they've reached the large garden out in the back. It's a beautiful but chilly night, and only a handful of people have had the brilliant idea of gazing at the stars tonight.

"Excuse me?" Even scoffs.

"You're constantly running away from me. Have I done something to upset you?"

_Have you done something? Have you done something?!_

"Listen Isak. I don't know how it works in your world, but I'm not like you, okay? I'm not like that. I would never do something that immoral and wrong."

"What?" Isak frowns, his face falling.

"I'm only going to say this once. But I need you to leave me alone. Okay?" Even insists, and it takes everything for him to utter the words in an unruffled and polite way.

"Oh." Isak gasps like he's just realized something. "I wasn't- Forgive me for assuming that- I didn't realize that- My bad."

Even watches Isak struggle with words, and it leaves him puzzled because he would have expected more churlishness from a rich kid being denied what he wants.

But then something seems to awaken within Isak, for he pauses his stammering and shakes his head.

"Why am I apologizing? Jesus," Isak sighs to himself, letting out a bitter laugh. “I have nothing to apologize for. If anything, you should be apologizing to _me.”_

“Excuse me?”

“Immoral? Really? Do you realize that I could have you fired?”

Even isn’t equipped to hate people. He’s never learned how to or had a reason to. He’s managed to lead a peaceful life except for a few hiccups, and he doesn’t feel too strongly about anyone. Certainly not to the point of hatred. But in this particular moment, what Even feels for Isak is awfully close to hate.

In this moment, Even despises him for making him feel so worthless and disposable, for reminding him of his power over him and his paychecks. So he does not weigh his next words, nor does he care to.

"You disgust me," Even bites harshly, something akin to rage burning at the pit of his stomach, and he’s never said such words to anyone in his life.

"Amazing. You’ll get along with my father just fine,” Isak slurs out his response. He looks hurt but overcome with surliness, like he couldn't give a damn, like he's heard those words before. Isak leans in until they're face to face, until Even can see the meadows in his eyes. "It’s 2018, Even. You won't go far in this industry with this attitude."

.

Even is shaken by their encounter. He keeps replaying it in his head, wonders if he should have condemned Isak's actions more.

_It's 2018? What does that even mean? That it's okay to ask for sex in the most disrespectful way? That models have to sell their bodies to make it?_

Even is reeling.

"You used those words?" Sonja asks when he calls her later.

"Yes, why?

"When you said that he disgusts you and that it’s immoral, did you specify that it's because he wants to pay you for sex?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Stripped of context, it almost sounds like you're a raging homophobe and that you're repulsed by him because he wants to have sex with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Even frowns.

"His comment about the industry could also be related to your alleged homophobia, not reluctance to you sleeping with him for money."

.

He replays the conversation in his head later. And while it doesn't change how much he despises Isak Valtersen, he doesn't want him thinking that he's a homophobe.

.

"You're done avoiding me now?" Isak sneers when he sees Even come up beside him on the balcony of the Astrup Fearnley museum. It's a private after hours party filled with art and alcohol, and Isak is holding a glass in his hand as always.

"I want to clarify that I'm not a homophobe."

Isak snorts then, laughter bubbling out of him so hard that he clumsily drops his glass, the sound of it shattering at their feet a metaphor for how Even feels right now.

"Every time we speak, you manage to floor me, Even."

Isak crouches to pick up his broken glass then, and Even watches him prick himself with its sharp edges, blood gushing out of his skin.

"What are you doing?!" Even sighs, joining him on the floor to look at his hands. He's bleeding all over the marbled ground now. "Are you a child?!"

But Isak is not listening. He's leaning against the railing, half asleep. He is beyond drunk. Great.

"God, I'm tired!" Isak laments while Even sneaks him out of the museum using one of the hidden staircases. He’s spent some time in this museum. He knows his way around it.

Even isn’t sure why he’s doing this, why he’s helping him when he should probably let him bleed all over that balcony. But Even can’t turn his back on someone visibly spiraling. He knows better. He knows how one hand can be enough to pull one away from the darkness.

Isak's shirt is also bloodied and there's no way that will look good to the press downstairs.

"Can you call Jonas for me? Please." Isak asks, handing him his phone. There's a childish quality to him right now lying on his back on a bench by the water. “He lives in one of these fancy apartments. He’ll be right down.”

Even calls this Jonas character, and for some odd reason waits until he gets there.

“Shit!” Jonas gasps when he sees them, but it’s seemingly not because Isak is bleeding all over himself. “You’re Even Bech Næsheim!”

“Uh. I guess I am,” Even replies sheepishly.

“Holy shit—”

“Jonas Noah Vasquez, if you don't shut your mouth right now. I swear to God!” Isak groans from his bench until Jonas is tight-lipped again.

Even helps Jonas drag Isak to a black car where he sleeps in the backseat, snoring softly with Hello Kitty bandaids, which they found in the glove box, awkwardly covering his palms. He almost looks cute like this. Almost.

"Does he always drink this much?" Even asks, because he can't recall seeing him sober.

"This is quite mild actually."

"What's his problem?"

"Rich people angst," Jonas replies, smiling. "Too much money, too little time."

Even laughs. Jonas is quite decent.

"I can't believe you just took part in an Isak Valtervention," Jonas laughs quietly to himself, making Even's brow furrow again, reminding him of his predicament. "Everyone's gonna give him so much shit."

.

Even walks home confused. He walks from Aker Brygge to Olaf Ryes Plass and realizes upon rounding the corner to his apartment that Jonas knows about Isak’s offer, that all of his friends must know.

Isak is probably embarrassed that Even rejected his advances and his fellow rich friends are making fun of him.

Even despises all of them.

.

Their interactions evolve into something rather aggressive and primal. Sonja calls it toxic. His peers call it sexual tension. Even calls it a show of force.

Isak stares him down at every event. He finds the perfect spot to hang over Even with a glass over his bottom lip and stares at him while Even occasionally glares back or ignores him altogether.

Isak never approaches him, but Even feels the weight of his gaze on him at all times. It makes socializing and having a good time slightly harder.

“Isak wants to bone you so hard,” Eili tells him, "I wish he swung my way. I heard he's a beast in bed."

But Even does not find it flattering. Even wants him to move on to his next target and leave him alone.

Except that when he does, when Isak starts smiling at an older dark-haired and green-eyed model named Lars, Even feels something twist within him.

“I’m not jealous,” Even explains to Eili who rolls her eyes at him. “I just feel disposable.”

It’s not jealousy. Jealousy implies that he feels something for Isak or that he wants him, both claims being false. It’s irritation. It’s the way Isak looks at him when he takes a sip of his drink, his hand comfortably lounging on Lars’ forearm, like he’s putting on a show for him.

Even excuses himself to smoke in the balcony of a large room on the second floor because he can no longer bear it. And he stays there until the music dims and car engines begin revving all around the absurdly and unnecessarily immense house, carrying guests out of Bygdøy.

“What are you doing here?” Isak startles him some time later, now standing beside him on the balcony.

“You’re following me around now?” Even asks nonchalantly.

“This is my room.”

“Your house is in Holmenkollen.”

“My dad’s house is in Holmenkollen. I live here.”

There’s no malice in Isak’s voice, just a hint of irritation. Even suddenly feels vain and childish. He’s torn between feeling embarrassed because he has to leave and resenting Isak even more for having his own property in Bygdøy when he shares the tiniest apartment with three other people in the city.

“I’m gonna go,” Even says, and the foreign feeling that washes over him when he sees Lars standing in the middle of Isak’s room with his shirt undone leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

_Of course._

“Is something wrong?” Isak asks, like he knows that a war is currently taking place inside him.

“Enjoy your night, Isak.”

.

Even watches them without meaning to. Isak and Lars. Lars and Isak. They’re always conveniently propped in front of him at every event, laughing, touching each other’s arms, whispering in each other’s ears.

And Even is not jealous. He knows that this is for him, that Isak is torturing him because he turned him down. He knows it.

He knows it because Isak’s eyes are always locked on him when Lars is not looking, because he never stops staring at him when he’s drunk and incoherent, because he once made a show out of eating grapes, his tongue slowly swirling around the fruit, his eyes never leaving Even’s.

_He’s trying to kill me._

.

“You’re staring,” Isak mocks him, catches him off guard when they’re left riding an elevator alone late at night, the last person having gotten off and left Even with nothing but the back of Isak’s head to stare at.

“You have eyes at the back of your head now?”

“I have eyes everywhere, Even.”

“I guess that’s a must when you’re lusting after all of your father’s employees.”

"You sound jealous. Are you jealous?"

"You mean repulsed."

"So repulsed that I always catch you looking at me."

"Just trying to gauge for when you'll fall over and embarrass yourself so I can leave. Don't wanna take part in another Isak Valtervention."

Isak turns around so abruptly that Even is left aghast and breathless when his back hits the wall behind him. Isak has backed him up without touching him and his hands are now spread out against the elevator wall on both sides of Even's head.

It’s a hysterical thought, but Even winces, hoping Isak doesn’t hit him in the face if he were to hit him at all. He has a shoot early in the morning.

“I wouldn’t hit you. Who do you think I am?" Isak blurts out like he's hurt. He's so close, Even can smell the mint mixed with bourbon in his breath.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“God! What a waste of a pretty mouth," Isak sighs, his eyes darting to said mouth, making Even's insides scream for some type of release to undo the knots in his stomach. Even wishes Isak didn't have the face of an angel. He wishes his face didn't do things to him inside.

“I’ll die before I put my mouth anywhere near you," Even mutters, but it sounds like a lie. It sounds like a terrible lie.

“Lies." Isak grabs Even’s chin with his right hand, and the hard yet gentle tug sends Even into a frenzy, making his mouth instantly fall open. "What a bunch of lies."

Even isn’t sure what possesses his body, but it is no longer his own. He lunges forward. Puts his mouth near him, on him, in him, animosity and resentment bleeding into his touch.

He is kissing Isak and Isak is kissing him back. Even pulls at his hair and pushes him into the corner of the elevator with a desperation that is foreign to even himself, his hands hiking up Isak’s shirt and digging into his skin. Even manhandles him and Isak lets him.

And it’s hard and rough and messy, and Isak is making the most outrageous sounds down his throat, like he’s just as desperate and gone for him, like he never wishes for the elevator to stop.

_The elevator._

The elevator doors open and they’re caught heaving into each other’s mouths. Even is horrified.

* * *

**Unknown Number**

**01:29**

_I’m lusting after one (1) employee of my father’s_

* * *

Even stares at the text message he receives later that night. It's an unknown number but Even knows who it is.

He spends an embarrassing amount of time under his cold shower.

.

“You’re fucking the CEO’s son?”

“Jesus, no!”

“People are talking. People saw you!”

* * *

**Valtervention**

Can you shut these rumors down?

What rumors?

You know what rumors

You kissed me  
It’s not a rumor

I wasn’t in my right mind  
And it will never happen again

Ok

* * *

Isak comes to his shoots now, further fueling the rumor mill. He doesn't greet him. He speaks with the photographers and lighting assistants, smiles at the make-up artists, and chats with the staff and crew. But he does not speak to him.

Even cannot focus. Isak is trying to sabotage him. He's trying to ruin him.

"This is his best angle. Focus on this angle," Even hears Isak tell the main photographer who looks annoyed that a kid is telling how to do his job.

Even ignores him but finds Isak's attitude unnerving and infuriating all at once. He won't look at him. He comes to his photoshoots but only ever stares at him through a lens or a screen.

The flower propped on his chest falls off his shoulder and Isak takes it upon himself to fix it, crossing to the shoot area until he is face to face with him.

"May I?" Isak asks, finally locking eyes with Even who nods sheepishly, suddenly blushing because he is almost naked with oil and glitter and make-up all over his body, and Isak is in a tight suit.

Isak picks up the dandelion and hovers over his chest, his eyes protruding ever so slightly. He's taking him in, roaming his entire body while Even feels both like pushing him away and pulling him closer. Isak licks his lips and Even has never wanted anyone this much.

Isak looks up, blushing, and Even probably looks like a wreck. He almost gasps when Isak raises his arm and runs a hand through his hair.

"Excuse me! What are you doing?" The hair stylist calls after Isak, but Isak doesn't care. He runs both hands through Even's hair, his fingers digging into his scalp before coming back out, until it's wild and free.

Isak then gently tucks the dandelion behind Even’s ear, his thumb lingering on his cheek for a moment before letting go.

"Much better," Isak whispers.

Even is floored.

.

"You need to stop this. This isn't a game to me. This is my life," Even tells Isak when he finds him in the parking lot, his brain doing its best to forget how that mouth opened against his own, submitting unreservedly.

"You're my asset. I am trying to get you where you need to be. This isn't a game to me either."

.

Even later finds out that Isak was the person who scouted him, that he found him online and recommended him to the talent agents. He later finds out that Isak got them to overlook his mental illness record and frequent visits to the police station. He later finds out that Isak owns him in every sense of the word.

Even wishes the ground could open up beneath his feet and swallow him.

"I got the job because some rich kid saw my picture on instagram and decided that he wants to fuck me."

"Don't say that. You're incredible behind the lens. He might have helped you a bit. But you're phenomenal," Sonja tries and tries and tries. "And you will show them that you deserve to be there."

.

Even takes to the gym to build more lean muscle. He widens his network and seeks advice from more successful models in his agency. He takes more risks and gets more practice. He leaves his comfort zone, becomes familiar with his body in ways he wasn’t before, becomes more comfortable in his skin, and attends acting lessons to channel the proper emotions in his photos.

Even does his best. He focuses on perfecting his form and his poses and less on grinding his teeth whenever he feels Isak’s presence. He doesn’t resent him nearly as much when he focuses on what he’s there to do.

And when Heidi who works in billing tells him that Isak is the one who approves all of his expenses and training activities, he’s not overcome with that sinking feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t feel used. He almost starts believing that Isak is indeed simply looking out for him.

.

Even gets the cover of a magazine. It's the picture Isak staged and directed, the one with the dandelion and the sex hair.

He feels awful at first until he is told that their agency has nothing to do with picking who gets to be on the covers. He's earned this. It feels good.

They have a party at Isak’s house in Bygdøy to celebrate, and Even is nervous because he heard that nobody's ever gotten such a lavish party for landing the cover of a minor magazine before. So he drinks to drown out his nerves and insecurities.

"You're wearing silk," Isak tells him when he finds him. He's drinking water and wearing a beige suit with no tie. He looks dazzling.

"You're drinking water."

"I figured I didn't want a Valtervention tonight," Isak replies and there's no animosity there anymore, just pure contentment.

"You don't want the spotlight this fine evening?" Even teases.

"No. It should be on you tonight. Rightfully so."

Even's breath hitches a bit and he's only now noticing how close they're standing on the balcony, arms brushing, eyes twinkling. He takes a few more long sips of his drink.

"You have an artistic eye," Even tries to give him some credit. "Who would have thought?"

"I don't. I just like pretty things that hurt me."

Isak's eyes dart to Even's mouth again and it sets his insides on fire, makes him dizzy with want. He would press him against this railing and take him right here if it weren't for the journalists downstairs and, of course, the offer, a permanent cloud looming over their heads at all times.

"You drive me up the wall, but you deserve this," Isak whispers, his free hand hovering over Even's hip like he wants to touch but can't. "You're phenomenal."

Even wants to believe it, wants to cling onto the words. But he remembers that Isak wants him in his bed, wants to "really, really, really fuck him", that none of this ultimately matters.

They stare at each other until Terje Valtersen makes his grand entrance, making Isak’s face fall, a frown now sitting between his full brows.

A beautiful woman in her twenties is holding onto Terje’s arm. She’s wearing a red dress and red lipstick, and if it weren’t for Isak seething beside him, Even might have stared at her a little longer.

He’s heard about Terje’s girlfriend, a model herself, but he’s never seen her in the flesh before. She’s only a couple of years older than Even and is the golden child of their agency. Their affair has always intrigued Even, however, because Terje was still married to Isak’s mother.

“How fucking dare he!” Isak mutters by his side, his fist clenched.

Even braces for the worst as Terje makes their way to them.

“Congratulations, Even. Excellent job on your magazine cover,” he tells him, and while Even is rarely intimidated by older and more powerful people, he is left a little bit flustered.

“Thank you very much, Terje.”

“Why are you here?” Isak snaps, and Even can’t tell when he got his hands on the nearly empty glass of bourbon he’s holding.

“Of course I was going to attend Even’s party. He’s the first model you’ve ever scouted and your protégé after all.”

.

Isak drinks and drinks and drinks until he begins leaning against Even, until Even has to physically stop him from drinking more.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Even says as gently as he can so that Isak doesn’t become even more belligerent.

“I think you should mind your own business,” Isak warns him and there’s so much hurt in his eyes.

“What happened to not needing a Valtervention tonight?”

“Fuck you!” Isak shoves him, spilling his drink on Even’s shirt without meaning to and making panic settle in his stomach at the prospect of a public breakdown. “You don’t know shit!”

Even drags him away, one arm wrapped around his waist because he somehow felt like it would mollify him. And it does, for Isak leans against him and doesn’t resist it any further.

But then Terje materializes before them by the staircase and tells Even that Isak’s driver, Edvard, will take care of Isak, that Even can go back to enjoying his party.

“Fuck off!” Isak bites, nearly lunging forward. “You’re a terrible fucking person. Do you know that?!”

“Isak, mind your language. There’s press in the house.”

“I don’t give a shit!”

“Watch your tone!” Terje warns and it feels final. Even is holding Isak with all his strength now and he can feel the resentment oozing out of him.

“My tone? Mom is dying and you’re flaunting your fucking whore in front of the press. How fucking dare you!”

The cold anger on Terje’s face turns into rage, for his arm is now ominously extended and Even barely has time to roll Isak to the side so that he can avoid the hard blow.

Even’s eyes are wide open when Edvard steps up and wraps a strong hand around Terje’s wrist, immobilizing him and stopping him from striking Isak in the face.

“Sir, I think you should head back to the party now,” Edvard says calmly. “You wouldn’t want an incident with the journalists.”

Even is both horrified and impressed by Edvard’s blind loyalty to Isak. Gratitude suddenly washes over him when he realizes that Isak has passed out in his arms once again.

_Maybe this is why he drinks so much. Maybe it helps him forget._

_._

Getting Isak to his room upstairs is a challenge, however. And Even’s thankful to Edvard for helping him carry him upstairs, then walk him to his bed where Isak falls on his back like dead weight.

Edvard kneels then and proceeds to remove Isak’s shoes, making Even feel extremely uncomfortable. The middle aged man looks like he’s been through a lot if he’s had to take care of Isak all this time.

“Uh. You don’t have to,” Even blurts out as if he knows better.

“He doesn’t sleep well if he leaves his shoes on.”

Even can’t help but feel even worse for Edvard. What else does he deal with when Isak is like this?

“I’ll do it,” says Even. “I don’t mind.”

“He’s gone through a lot, this kid,” says Edvard at the door, and his kind blue eyes shine under the threshold. “It’s easy to judge when you’re on the outside. But he’s gone through a lot.”

Even removes Isak’s shoes and then his socks. He rolls him onto his sides to awkwardly take off his jacket, then carefully begins unbuttoning his shirt by the collar.

Isak’s eyes flutter open then and the sight of him takes Even’s breath away. He’s beautiful when he lets his guards down. He’s beautiful when he’s not thrashing around.

“Is this a dream?” Isak whispers like he means it.

“No.”

Even doesn’t realize how close their faces are, how their foreheads are nearly touching until they do touch. He’s sitting beside Isak in bed, towering over him, but it still seems like Isak has the upper hand, like he exerts this invisible force on him by simply looking vulnerable and hurt in his own bed.

“Are you okay?” Even asks him, and his voice is too gentle for his own liking, too caring. He leans back because he cannot breathe when they’re that close.

“I ruined your shirt,” says Isak, his hand coming up to rest on Even’s chest where the stain is drying.

“It’s okay.”

Isak’s hand moves from Even’s chest to his neck, and Even has to distract himself from the intimacy of the touch, from how good it feels to have Isak’s hands on him.

“I’m sorry I stole the spotlight tonight.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t have to throw me a party in the first place.”

“I just wanted you to feel proud of yourself like I’m proud of you.”

Even wants to kiss him, aches with the need to kiss him, to comfort him, to hold him and make him feel better. And he’s about to. He wants to. He will. This is what Isak wants after all.

But then Isak pulls him in by locking both arms around his back, and Even finds himself chest to chest with the very boy who’s been making his blood boil for the last few months, the very boy who occupies all his thoughts and wages wars inside him.

Isak hugs him and Even can’t do much but hug him back, in his bed, providing him with the comfort he secretly seeks. And it’s awkward until it isn’t, until Even is on his back and Isak curls around his chest, his nose brushing against Even’s jaw, his arms around him like he wants to soak up all the comfort he can get.

“My mom is dying,” Isak speaks into the crook of Even’s neck, prompting him to hold him closer, tighter. “I feel like a piece of me is dying too.”

Even doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should ask what’s wrong with Isak’s mother or if he should tell him that everything is going to be okay. Even doesn’t know what to tell him.

But words aren’t what Isak is after. Words aren’t what he wants from Even after all. So Even holds him until Isak begins to doze off again.

He tries to sneak out an hour or so later, tries to get up without waking him. But Isak’s hand curls around his wrist and keeps him there.

“Can you stay with me?” Isak asks with his head lying on Even’s chest, looking up at him with the saddest and emptiest eyes, his long lashes fluttering under the dimmed light from his nightstand. “Please?”

Even stays with him.

.

Even awakes to Edvard knocking on the door, and it takes him a second to realize where he is.

“Isak left for his morning schedule. He asked me to drive you home,” says Edvard.

Even can’t help but feel like a cheap hook-up, like someone who’s just been walked out on and is now being kicked out in the morning. He gets up feeling embarrassed and wonders how he ended up wearing one of Isak’s t-shirts. It’s a white tee with Jesus on it.

“Your shirt has been sent to dry cleaning and will be returned to you by the end of the day,” says Edvard like he’s just read his mind.

.

Isak doesn’t contact him the following days. Even receives his dry-cleaned shirt along with a brand new one, accompanied with an apology typed on a card.

Isak doesn’t really come to his shoots the following week, and Even debates if he should reach out to him and ask how he’s doing, how his mother is doing. He’s worried, he realizes. And it’s not a very natural emotion to feel for his archenemy. It eats at him.  

He runs into him on the elevator and tries to make conversation, but he can’t because other people are riding it with them.

“You don’t come to my shoots anymore,” Even blurts out when Isak is about to get off, no longer concerned about the others.

“I thought you didn’t like it when I did,” Isak replies, now holding the door with his hand.

“You can if you want to.”

.

Isak is there at his following shoots. They don’t really chat on the side, but Even finds that he likes working with him, being directed by him. He finds that Isak sees beauty in things where most people don’t. He finds that Isak sees him at his best and knows how to make him shine. It’s a silly thought, but Isak makes him feel like he shines sometimes.

“You make me feel like I shine sometimes,” Even tells him at a launch party, and Eili might have made him take a few shots before he headed upstairs to stand on the balcony with Isak.

Isak stares at him until his face breaks into a dimpled smile, and Even wants to let his thumb rest on the crease on Isak’s left cheek.

“To me, you shine all the time,” Isak tells him like he means it.

Even is not moved. He isn’t. He is drunk, that is all. He is not moved by Isak Valtersen of all people. Isak who signed him just so that he could have his way with him.

But Even can’t help the way he’s feeling inside. He can’t help the gratitude that washes over him, the sudden warmth that spreads in his chest.

Isak took a bet on him and gave him the opportunity of a lifetime when no else believed in him or was willing to give him a chance, which is why Even is grateful.

This is gratitude, not feelings.

“Thank you,” he tells Isak because he wants to believe his encouraging words.

A part of him will always wonder if Isak is only telling him this because he wants him in his bed, but Even decides that he will give himself a chance. Even decides that he deserves this.

“No need to thank me,” Isak smiles, raising his glass of water as if to give him a toast.

“Water tonight?”

“Trying to avoid a Valtervention. For real this time,” Isak laughs and it does things to Even inside.

_He’s so fucking cute._

.

Lars, good old Lars who used to make him grit his teeth whenever he so much as breathed in Isak’s direction, seems to disagree with Even’s decision to believe in himself. Because when he and Isak make their way back downstairs after more intense staring, they find Lars blabbering about how "they're probably fucking upstairs as we speak. Everyone knows Bech Næsheim is only getting gigs because he chokes on the CEO's fucked up son's dick every night."

Even doesn't have time to internalize the debilitating words, because Isak is at Lars’ throat in seconds.

"Take that back!" He hisses, rage filling his eyes and his voice. "Take it back immediately!"

Even wraps both arms around Isak's chest and pulls him back, horrified. But Isak is still spewing venom, still thrashing around like a spoiled child.

"Maybe if you spent less time worrying about who's sucking my cock and more on perfecting your form, you would have gotten a cover of a magazine. Huh? Has it occurred to you that maybe he just worked hard for this? That maybe he's just better than you?!"

"Isak, enough!" Even shouts behind him.

But the humiliated and heavily inebriated model has already lunged at Isak with a punch, and all hell breaks loose.

.

"So much for avoiding an Isak Valtervention, huh," Even jokes once they're in the new car.

He's still tipsy, now even more confused than before. He's never ridden in such a vehicle before: tinted glass, reclining leather seats, partition up, professional and withdrawn driver. Even wonders where Edvard is.

He would feel more content and gush over their ride if he wasn't holding an ice pack to Isak's cheek right now.

"The one night I don't drink, I get punched in the face," Isak mutters. "Do you see what you do to me, Bech Næsheim?"

_Do you see what you do to ME?!_

“Did you dump him?” Even asks.

“What?”

“Lars. Did you dump him? Is that why he was so angry?”

“Dumping him would require me being with him in the first place,” says Isak.

“Weren’t you?”

“No.”

“His shirt was undone in your room.”

“I just wanted to make you jealous.”

Even is upset. He’s not sure why he’s upset because he knew that already, but he still remembers how disappointed he was that night.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Isak continues.

Even doesn’t have a word for the relief that overwhelms him. It makes no sense that such an absurd piece of information makes him happy. Isak can do whatever he wants.

“I want _you._ It’s _you_ that I want.”

"You confuse me to no end, Isak," Even admits after a few silent minutes. His wrist hurts from holding the ice pack, but his brain hurts more.

"What?"

"I don't know what you want from me." Even feels defeated. Isak can probably tell that he has an undeniable effect on him, that he wishes he could stay away. Isak knows.

"How much clearer can I make it, Even?" Isak replies and his eyes are hungry, his voice wistful and hurtful. “You know what I want.”

Even is upset and confused. Every time he lets himself believe that Isak might be decent, he pulls something like this. 'You're nothing but a thing I want to fuck.'

And perhaps, Even would feel better if he got to have his way with him. Perhaps that once this sexual tension is diffused, he will be able to return to his unbothered self. Perhaps he should just give Isak what he craves -- and what Even so desperately also wants to give -- and get this over with.

Perhaps.

Even moves before he can change his mind and he watches Isak's eyes widen and bulge.

"What are you doing?" Isak gasps by the time Even's made himself comfortable on his lap, throwing both legs around him and trapping him there, straddling him.

"Is this what you want?" Even whispers, back arched, leaning down towards Isak's face because he's tall and desperate.

"Even-" Isak makes an embarrassing sound, both hands coming up to hang over Even's arms for a moment before dropping by his sides on the leather seat, like he might as well enjoy this.

"Tell me. Is this what you want?" Even asks again, and it's now his turn to gasp when Isak's body replies with a sudden thrust upward, bulging undeniably under him.

"Fuck!" Isak grunts while Even digs his knees into the backseat, breathing hard because he doesn't know where to go from here.

_Is this really happening? Are we about to fuck in your car while your face is swelling and aching under my fingertips?_

"Does it feel good?" Even asks, his hips moving, grinding, slowly, achingly, his voice hoarse from wanting too much. He wants him so much.

"Even, please-" Isak begs and Even wants him to say that he's sorry, wants him to take HIS words back.

"Is this," Even grabs Isak's left hand and places it on his stomach, under his shirt, "what you want?"

Isak looks up to him from where he lies wrecked with his legs spread open, his head thrown backwards, his mouth parted and ready. He looks gone for him and Even wishes he could take a picture of him like this, so vulnerable yet so hot.

"Tell me. Use your words, Isak," Even breathes slowly, then gasps when Isak brings his second hand to his waist under his shirt and squeezes. He squeezes so hard that Even moans.

Even rips his silk shirt open with little regard to the buttons, and nearly yelps when Isak closes his eyes and lets his head fall against Even's bare chest, as if to breathe him in.

"God," Isak sighs, now locking both arms around Even's back, holding him, grinding right back.

"Is this what you've wanted all along?" Even pants in Isak's ear while losing himself to the franticness of their movements, both rubbing against each other like frenzied teenagers.

"No!" Isak gasps, pulling back like the words have awakened him, and his face is red, his bulge embarrassing. "God, no."

"What is it then?" Even presses because the expression and desperation on Isak's face is almost moving him, and he cannot afford to be moved. He reaches between them and starts undoing Isak's belt.

"Even!"

"What?" Even is frantic, the metal of the belt making him shake with nerves and want. He doesn't breathe until he shoves his hand down Isak's designer underwear and wraps it around his fully hard length. "Is it this? Is this what you want?"

Isak whines. He actually whines, and Even nearly makes a mess in his own pants from the sound alone.

"No," Isak pants.

"What then?" Even takes his hand away and watches him mourn the loss of contact. "You want me to blow you? You want me to ride you?"

Isak's eyes are hooded and his left cheek is swollen, but he looks so pretty like this.

"Or do you want me to finger you? Do you want my fingers in you? Do you want me to fuck you?"

Even's head is spinning and Isak is squirming beneath him, and everything is too much. He regrets the crude words the moment he says them. He sincerely hopes the poor driver isn't listening to this right now.

"How I wish I wasn't so enamored of you," Isak sighs and Even stops moving, stops breathing, stops grinding.

"What?"

"Maybe I just want this."

Isak places both hands on Even’s cheeks and pulls him in.

Isak kisses him. And it's the most gentle kiss. The most delicate and toe-curling kiss with the sweetest moans and sweetest touches. Isak’s mouth opens against his own like he’s a treasure, and the kiss is so deep that Even knows it will linger for days.

"Maybe I just want this," Isak says again when their lips part and their foreheads rest against one another, both of them breathing fast and hard.

Isak's hand moves on Even's chest and stops where his heart is pounding against his ribcage.

"Maybe I just want this, Even. Has it ever occurred to you? That perhaps all I want is to kiss you and spend a day in bed with you?"

Even kisses him because he no longer knows what he feels, because nothing makes sense anymore, nothing but the pressure of Isak’s mouth against his own. And Isak kisses him back with the passion of someone who carries love in their heart.

And so they kiss. They make out, slowly, longingly, passionately.

Even kisses him, licks into his mouth, hands on Isak’s face as if to make him open up even more, their kisses deep and long and slow. So slow, Even feels fire in his insides from the build-up alone. And Isak kisses him like he wants to savor him, his hands pulling and tugging at his hair, his moans sweet and delicious down Even’s throat.

Even ends up with his back against the cold window, Isak seemingly having a way to climb into his lap instead. And they kiss until all is forgotten and forgiven, until it’s foggy and hot and humid. Until the new driver slides the windows down ever so slightly and makes both of them part for a frenzied moment to get back to their senses.

The wind feels good. It feels so good. But Isak’s hands on Even’s face somehow feel better. Isak roaming Even’s face with his green eyes like he’s a wonder feels so much better.   

“You don’t have a single clue. Do you?”

“Huh?”

“How much I love you.”

_What?!_

Even doesn’t know what to say or do. So he remains still until Isak climbs off his lap, deflated and defeated.

“Isak—”

“I think we’re almost at your place,” Isak whispers, looking crushed.

Even leaves the car in a sorry state and has to sit on the pavement to catch his breath. He watches Isak drive away, feeling like his orbit is a bit skewed. Because nothing makes sense anymore.

.

Isak doesn’t come to his shoots and no longer comes to the agency. He doesn’t pick up Even’s calls and doesn’t reply to his texts. He stops updating his instagram and simply drops off the surface of the earth.

Later that week, they’re told that Isak will stop being involved with the agency and that agents under him will have a new manager. Even didn’t even know that Isak was managing his agent.

Apparently, the press caught Lars punching Isak in the face on camera, and many allegations about him are now floating around. They’re all denied, however, one by one. And Even soon finds out that no one has ever had a bad encounter with Isak, that he’s never flirted with anyone or slept with anyone from the agency. That they were all groundless rumors.

Even Lars, who turns out to be straight, admits that he was jealous of all the opportunities Even was being handed.

_Then why would he send me that card? Why ask to sleep with me for money? Why come after me?_

.

Edvard contacts Even a few days later about Isak’s Jesus shirt, asking him to drop it off at his home. And Even suspects that Isak is back and that it’s a trick to get them to meet, because he doubts Isak cares about a stupid t-shirt. But he’s not home, and Even is left awkwardly wandering around the house.

“Just put the shirt in Isak’s closet in his room,” says Edvard. “You know where it is.”

**_< 3 Even Bech Næsheim <3 _ **

The words are carved on Isak’s closet door and Even feels like he’s landed in an alternate reality. He examines his closet further and finds even more carvings.

**_EBN. Even <3\. <3 Even. I + E. _ **

Even cannot believe his eyes. Surely, this has to be a prank. But why would Edvard pull a prank on him?

.

“So this is awkward,” Jonas frowns. He accepted to meet Even after he said that it was urgent and is now staring at the scented card Even received in the mail.

“Can you explain?”

“Uhm. Yeah, Isak didn’t send you this,” Jonas sighs. “Someone from your agency must have been trying to fuck with you.”

“How do you know?”

“Isak would never. He could never.”

“Sure but how do you know?”

“I’ve known him my whole life. He’s not an asshole,” Jonas glares at him, seemingly hurt by the fact that Even thought it was Isak. “Plus, this isn’t his handwriting.”

“But you knew who I was when we met. And you said that the others would make fun of him-”

“Yeah because he’s only liked you for what? Like four years now?”

“What?”

“Isak’s gonna kill me!”

“What do you mean four years?”

“You know when we were teenagers at school and we all had that one celebrity that we liked? Like for me, I really liked Blake Lively because I thought she was hot and Magnus drooled all over Adriana Lima, and-”

“What’s your point?”

“We all had someone. And Isak had you. Isak liked you. I can’t remember a time when he didn’t have a crush on you. That’s why I freaked out.”

“What?”

“Do you know how he came out to the rest of our friends after he told me? We were all playing this stupid game and we all had to write down the name of the woman of our dreams, and everyone else had to guess. And do you know what he put down? He put ‘Even Bech Næsheim’ and added an asterisk to say ‘man* of my dreams’. Can you believe this guy?” Jonas laughs. “Obviously, everyone was like who the hell is Even Bech Næsheim, and we gave him shit for liking a wannabe Instagram model. But he believed in you, kept saying you were gonna be huge.”

* * *

**Valtervention**

When are you coming back?  
I need to talk to you

I’m coming back in a few days

Are you in the Oslo region?  
I can come to you  
Where are you right now?

I can’t see you right now

Why not?

My mom’s dead  
We’re burying my mom

* * *

Even is in Bygdøy when Edvard drives Isak back home. He’s been waiting with knots in his stomach, and seeing Isak hurts so much more than he thought it would. His eyes are bloodshot and empty. His cheeks are a little bit hollow like he hasn’t eaten in a week. His hair is unruly and he has grown a slight beard.

Isak looks like his heart is broken and Even wants to hold him. So he does.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Even tells him sincerely, both arms strong and steady around his back.

“Thank you.”

.

They spend the day in bed. Isak sleeps and Even holds him. They don’t talk about it. Isak doesn’t cry, doesn’t question why Even is there, why he’s offering him comfort, why he no longer hates him. Isak sleeps in his arms like he hasn’t slept in weeks and nuzzles his neck and clings to him, breathes him in, inhales him.

“When I said I wanted to spend the day in bed with you, I didn’t exactly mean this,” Isak says when he wakes up later that evening, still sprawled on Even’s chest.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

“I’m sure she’s happier now. At least, she’s in peace now. At least I can stop drinking myself to death now.”

Even holds him closer to his chest, feels everywhere they’re touching and tries to will the tightness in his heart away. He holds him and cuddles him until it gets late, until their silence no longer makes sense.

“I’ve liked you since I was fifteen,” Isak whispers. “I saw you in a play at Bakka when I went with my dad’s friend who was a talent scouter. You were terrible at acting but I liked your smile. I thought you shined on stage and it eventually triggered my sexuality crisis.”

“Isak-”

“I followed you through the years like a teenager with a crush. And when I could finally scout people, I immediately referred you. I was so happy when you were signed. I was so nervous that first night that I drank like a tool to work up the courage to speak to you. But then you said that you weren’t like me, that I disgusted you, and my world came crashing down a little bit. I’d have been okay with you being straight. But you being homophobic felt like a slap to the face.”

“I’m not. That’s not why-”

“Jonas told me about the card. It was probably Lars. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter,” says Isak. “I’m just sorry that you thought I sent it. You must have felt terrible. I’m sorry.”

"I'm sorry for sounding homophobic all this time. I must have hurt you a lot."

"It's okay," Isak whispers, his nose finding the crook of Even's neck and settling there. "Can you stay with me? Just tonight. Can you stay with me?"

Even stays with him.

And when he wakes up, it’s to an empty bed and a card on the pillow.

.

> _I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your body. I want your heart._  
>  _But it is not mine to have._ _  
> _ _So I’ll just watch you shine from afar like one watches the sun._ _  
> _ Good luck with everything <3
> 
> _Isak Valtersen._

.

.  
  
Even wins model of the year. He lands more covers and works with renowned photographers who teach him invaluable lessons. He works hard and perfects his craft. He turns down work offers that don't align with his values and does his best to give back. Life is good. Even feels good about his work and his worth and his life. 

But there's a constant void that he cannot fill up in his heart. His heart which still clenches whenever he takes that elevator, which pinches whenever he goes to Bygdøy or the Astrup Fearnley museum, whenever he sees or smells Bourbon, whenever he does so much as wear silk or drink water at a party. 

He misses him. Isak. And he aches with it. 

He misses his vile tongue, and his hair, and his suits, and his neck, and his mouth, and his hands. He misses arguing with him on balconies and pretending that he doesn't want him when he's never wanted anyone this much. He misses trying to ignore him and his presence when his body is so attuned to him and aware of him.

Even misses him. 

It's been months. But Isak won't hear him out, won't return his calls, too convinced that Even is simply feeling charitable because of his mother's passing and upon finding out that Isak has loved him all along. 

"You need to make him listen," Edvard tells him when Even learns that Isak is not home for the tenth time this week. "Make him listen to you."

And Even wonders why this man cares so much about rich and spoiled Isak Valtersen.

.

Even gets interviewed for Model of the Year and he's nervous the day the issue is out. He's nervous and worried, but he doesn't regret any of his answers. He wouldn't take any of it back. 

Isak is at his door at nine in the morning. The issue has been out for less than an hour and Isak is already at his door. 

"Do you mean it?" Isak asks in his pajamas, his eyes big and wide and green and hopeful, his hand gripping the magazine that asked Even the emptiest and dumbest questions.

"I mean it."

"Swear it!"

Even chuckles, crosses the remaining distance between them and backs Isak up against the wall until he is laughing, too. 

"God, how much I've missed you!" Even sighs, his hands cupping Isak's face, his thumbs stroking his cheeks.

"Swear that it's true," Isak demands, and he's smiling so wide. 

"You're spoiled, and irritatingly smart, and wickedly funny, and you drive me up the wall, and I'm gonna have to teach you how to take the bus and the tram because Edvard needs a break, and we'll share one Netflix account because using two is a waste of money, and I know you're going to want to be wild but we won't have crazy limo sex out of respect for your drivers, and you're gonna have to stop leaving me in beds and turning me into a mess and making me act like a child. But god dammit Isak Valtersen, I wouldn't have it any other way!"

"What a waste of a pretty mouth!" Isak chuckles.

Even kisses him until he purrs into his mouth. And Isak kisses back like he carries nothing but love in his heart.

"Say it," Isak grins when he pulls back and Even has never seen him smile this wide.

"Say what?"

"Say it, Even," Isak asks again, and his eyes are sparkling, his lips parted and inviting, his hands on his chest. "Say it."

"You're the man of my dreams."

. 

> _**Favorite color? Green** _
> 
> _**Favorite movie? Pretty Woman** _
> 
> _**Favorite director? Baz Luhrmann** _
> 
> _**Favorite artist? Nas** _
> 
> _**Woman of your dreams? Man* of my dreams: Isak Valtersen** _
> 
>  

 

**Author's Note:**

> the end <333 as i mentioned before i typed it on my phone while multitasking so it's not superb. but i hope u liked it. 
> 
> this is officially universe 21 which means this series is over. im so sad. but thank you so much for reading and following. i will finish the other verses i promise.
> 
> love youuu thank you.


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